Craig Finn Talks New Solo Album, New Hold Steady Material

Anyone who's seen a Hold Steady show knows that excess moisture-- whether it be from sweat or spilled beer-- is part of the deal. So when frontman Craig Finn recently played a show in support of his forthcoming solo album Clear Heart Full Eyes (streaming now on NPR; out January 24 via Vagrant), he was a little thrown off afterward. "It wasn't physically taxing, my voice didn't hurt, and I was dry," he recalls. "I was like, 'Wow, did I just play a show?'"

The solo record is a relatively somber affair that replaces the Hold Steady's classic rock riffage with instrumentation that's moodier and twangier, courtesy of members of White Denim, the Heartless Bastards, Phosphorescent, and Centro-matic. Drinking wine in a cafe close to his Greenpoint, Brooklyn apartment, Finn is open about the differences between his usual gig and the solo stuff. "With the Hold Steady, I feel like I have a responsibility for some optimism," he says. "I relieved myself of that for this record-- no one gets saved in the end."

While Finn will tour Clear Heart Full Eyes for the next couple months, he's also hard at work writing the next Hold Steady album, which he hopes to release later this year. We spoke about what it means to be a 40-year-old singer in a rock band, the perils of depression, and whether he envies the characters in his songs.

Pitchfork: You recorded this album during a four-month break from the Hold Steady. After touring and putting out albums for so many years in a row, did you ever consider just, like, taking a vacation?

Craig Finn: Maybe I don't pass time that well. If I had a family it would be easier, but I don't. I thought about writing a book, but I tried that a few years back and it didn't go so well. I was just thinking: "We've made five Hold Steady records, we need some new experiences." I'm not really a music guy; I don't write much music for the Hold Steady. So I thought it might be fun to do something where the lyrics are first and foremost, and the music just supports it.

"Artistically, I have always been really interested in the hangover;not just the celebration and the confetti but also the puke in the gutter."

Pitchfork: How do you view this album compared to a Hold Steady record?

CF: I see the Hold Steady as very celebratory: We're going to put our beers in the air and have a good time tonight. Which I love. But I don't feel that way 100% of the time. I'm a human being. So I was able to make a record that came from a different part of me. I wanted to go after that melancholy.

And since it could exist at a lower volume, I could concern myself with more mundane everyday details and vulnerabilities. A lot of it is about being alone, guys in rented rooms without much left. As a touring musician, there's a lot of that, and there's something nice about it; I sometimes go to movies and shows by myself, I don't think that's weird. It's an age thing, too. Rock'n'roll is a youthful music. It can be tough to stay relevant as you age.

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Pitchfork: How old are you now?

CF: I turned 40 in August, which is climactic when you're the singer of a rock band. It's like, "What am I doing?" You want to be age appropriate. That's something I think about: How do I not be an embarrassing 40 year old and still do what I want to do?

When I was 30, I thought I was done with rock'n'roll. I thought it was time to be an adult. But part of that responsibility is to pursue things you want to do. That's adult. I feel like people put so much pressure on themselves that doesn't exist in the external world.

Nowadays, I don't have a plan, an exit strategy, or a career arc in mind. So it's like: keep working on things. Don't sit and play PlayStation and wait for the phone to ring. Go out and see music, see art, participate. Then you just cross your fingers and hope it will work out OK.

Pitchfork: You've said the characters in your songs aren't based on your own life. Do you envy them at all?

CF: Not really. I wouldn't want to live with the consequences I know are there. If I wrote songs only about myself, they'd be much more boring. When Separation Sunday came out and the band started to do OK, I remember this distinct feeling that people would meet me and be disappointed I wasn't crazy. I was like, "Should I break something?" I'm just a boring guy who likes to read a lot of books. It's not in my nature to get that crazy.

That said, for the first couple of years, we got really drunk all the time. But it got to a point where I was like, "Wow, I'm really sick of being hungover." The characters in my songs wouldn't say that. They'd say, "Let's start drinking again. We'll feel better in 40 minutes!" Artistically, I have always been really interested in the hangover; not just the celebration and the confetti but also the puke in the gutter.

"When some people hit their late 20s or early 30s, there's that frustration:'This isn't turning out how I thought it was going to. Why do I sleep so much?Why am I not excited to see my friends?'"

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Pitchfork: A good example of that is the new song "Terrified Eyes", which is about a couple going through some really tough times: hospital bills, disconnection, maybe alcoholism.

CF: That song is really about two people who are in this frustrating place where things are wrong and they recognize that, but they can't change it. A lot of my songwriting in the Hold Steady has to do with this place in your life where it's appropriate to go to parties and have a dumb job. And then you get a little older, late 20s or early 30s, and it's not as appropriate. There are people who make that transition and then there are people who get hung up right there. Things like hospitalization, mental health, and depression really start to come to light. It's that frustration: "This isn't turning out how I thought it was going to. Why is it so hard for me to get to work? Why do I sleep so much? Why am I not excited to see my friends?"

Pitchfork: There's a great line about that in that song: "He's not gonna tell her it's a matter of just kinda trying harder."

CF: Depression in the clinical sense is a really hard thing for people to empathize with. There's this bootstraps approach, like, "Why don't you get out of bed and get a job! It's all up to you." But that isn't for everyone. There is a time when you realize: "Whoa, you're sick just as if your leg was rotting off." David Foster Wallace is a hero of mine, and I read an interview with his wife where she said that everyone was shocked when he killed himself, but if he had pancreatic cancer, no one would have been shocked. The guy was not well.

I know a lot of people that have been afflicted by anxiety and debilitating depression. It takes this momentum: If you're not pushing the boulder up the hill, it's rolling down on you.

Pitchfork: Are there any things you learned doing this album you might be able to apply to the Hold Steady?

CF: I was really happy with how quickly we were able to record the solo record. Most things were second or third takes. It's too early to tell if that'll continue with the Hold Steady, but there's something about really capturing a moment. It's different when it's loud, though; a charming mistake at a low volume isn't as charming at a high volume.

And it's going to be fun yelling at the top of my lungs again. I have a renewed confidence. It's too early to tell how it'll go, but we have six or eight new songs. We usually go into the studio with about 20, so we have some work to do.